


at least we had it for a moment

by emmerrr



Series: underneath it all [1]
Category: Call Down the Hawk - Maggie Stiefvater, Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Call Down the Hawk Spoilers, F/M, I really don't know what to tag this as, The Barns (Raven Cycle), immediate aftermath of cdth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmerrr/pseuds/emmerrr
Summary: Declan, Jordan, and Matthew arrive back at the Barns
Relationships: Jordan/Declan Lynch
Series: underneath it all [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928041
Comments: 46
Kudos: 217





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is lyrics from no choir by florence + the machine which is an EXTREMELY jordeclan song i think

The journey back to the Barns was quiet. Fraught.

Matthew sat in the back, alternating between staring intently out of the window and staring intently at Jordan. If Jordan noticed the attention, she didn’t mention it, her own eyes steadfast on the road before her.

Declan thought Matthew might ask to put his terrible music on, but he didn’t, and in the end Declan turned on the radio, the volume down low. He murmured occasional directions to Jordan, and he checked his phone incessantly.

Nothing new from Ronan, nothing from Adam. A few emails from his internship, a few in his college inbox. He checked them all dutifully, replying to what needed to be replied to.

He lingered over his recent calls, the number for the new Fenian near the top. He wondered what would happen if he was to call it again, if he was to demand a meeting with Mór Ó Corra, if he was to insist the Niall copy took him to her.

Perhaps it didn’t matter now. They had bigger problems. They had all just narrowly escaped being slaughtered, and Ronan and Hennessy were off probably putting themselves in even more danger with whoever or whatever Bryde turned out to be.

Jordan had lost almost her entire family in one fell swoop.

What a fucking day.

They were almost there. “Pull over,” Declan said.

Jordan glanced at him. “Are we here?”

“Nearly. I’ll drive this last bit.”

She frowned, confused, but did as he asked. They swapped places; Declan got out of the car and walked around, Jordan scrambled over the middle console and into the passenger seat.

He pulled back out into the road, taking care to look over his shoulder for other cars even though it was late and there was nothing else around. A little over a minute down the winding road, they approached the turning for the long driveway to the Barns.

Declan didn’t know if it would be better to give Matthew and Jordan a heads-up about Ronan’s mindfuckery, or if going in blind would be better.

He decided on a vague warning.

“Just remember, it’ll only be for a second,” he said, and turned into the drive.

The last time Declan had driven through here, after the Cambridge incident when Ronan hadn’t answered his phone for four days, he’d been viscerally reminded of every confrontation with Ronan in the year following Niall’s death. Every punch thrown, every vicious insult hurled on either side, every truth about Niall Lynch that Declan had withheld even when all he’d wanted to do was shake Ronan by the shoulders until he understood that Niall was no hero.

This time, it was more recent troubles. It was the slump of Matthew’s shoulders, it was the sad text asking Declan to come home, it was _this is the worst thing you’ve ever done to me_ echoing in his head.

Declan took it on the chin, just like he did everything else.

They made it through and it faded out, and Declan risked peering at Jordan as he continued slowly down the driveway. She was blinking furious tears out of her eyes.

“What the fuck _was_ that?” she snapped. Her hands were shaking; he kept his steadily on the steering wheel.

“Ronan dreamt the place up a security system.”

“Is he trying to keep _everyone_ out? Fuck. _Fuck,_ does he go through that every day?”

Declan inclined his head to the second question, leaving the first unanswered. He didn’t think Ronan wanted no visitors at _all_ — Adam was obviously welcome anytime, and Declan had yet to be turned away — but his attempt at keeping the Barns hidden from undesirables didn’t distinguish between those who had a pass and those who didn’t.

“It could use some fine-tuning,” he said, and Jordan scoffed, but Declan could tell she was still badly shaken.

He looked in the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Matthew. His little brother was gazing out of the window, a single tear dripping off the bottom of his chin that he hadn’t bothered to wipe away. Declan wanted to ask him if he was okay, but that didn’t seem fair somehow. Obviously he wasn’t okay, and neither was Ronan, and Declan _definitely_ wasn’t. He just looked like he was.

He’d made looking fine into an art.

He parked in front of the farmhouse and they all got out. Matthew hurried straight up the porch steps but had to wait there as Declan had the key. Jordan was slower to move, peering out at what she could see of the grounds.

Several of Ronan’s dream lights hovered in the fields, and shadows moved across; creatures both dreamt and real. Every so often a light would land on and illuminate some of the dreamt cattle.

Jordan squinted. “Are they…sleeping?”

Declan nodded. “They’re dreams. My father’s.”

Jordan nodded. “That’s what would happen to me,” she said quietly, “if Hennessy…” 

She let the sentence die there, and Declan didn’t finish it for her. Yes, if Hennessy was to die, Jordan would be rendered forever asleep, just like these cows. Just like Matthew would be if something happened to Ronan. No, it wasn’t fair. No, he didn’t see what good would come from talking about it.

Jordan’s face cleared and instead she allowed herself to be distracted by the magic of the Barns, her attention catching on all the silhouettes moving through the dark. The corner of her mouth upturned, a half smile of wonder. Declan stood with her a moment while she watched, and he wondered what this place looked like through her eyes.

He’d grown up here. It should feel comforting and nostalgic to return; he should be reminded of childhood games and whimsy. And there was a little of that, if he really searched for it. But it was buried deep under resentment and loneliness and responsibility.

Home. He supposed it _was_ home. Every time he thought he’d left it behind, he ended up straight back here.

“Let’s go in. I’m sure Matthew would love to give you a tour in the morning,” he said, touching Jordan’s arm lightly as he passed her.

“I’ll hold him to that,” she said, and followed.

Once inside, food was highest on their list of priorities despite the late hour. Judging by the out of date beans Ronan had been eating from the tin when Declan had last visited, he didn’t hold out much hope of finding anything.

Admittedly, there wasn’t a _lot,_ but there were eggs, and shredded cheese in a bag.

“Oh, sorted,” Jordan said brightly. “I can do an omelette.” She went to the sink to wash her hands. “Matthew, give us a hand?”

“Which one?” he said, the kind of joke he’d usually make in front of Ronan. In Ronan’s absence, he looked to Declan, who offered him a huffed breath that might just about pass for a laugh.

“Good one, mate,” Jordan said, rolling her eyes with a good-natured smile. “C’mere, I’ve got a job for you.” Matthew grinned and trotted over to her, an eager golden retriever. She set him to work cracking eggs into a measuring jug as she hunted through cupboards and drawers for anything else she needed.

She was clearly very good at making herself at home, but then again, Declan had noticed that when she’d been at his house in D.C., sitting up on his counter, making space for him to stand right in front of her, her hand under his shirt, on his skin, the anticipation of a kiss that never came...

Jordan looked over her shoulder and caught him staring. He didn’t look away; there didn’t seem much point. She smiled at him like it was a secret. “Why don’t you track down something for us to drink?”

Declan obliged, glad of a task. He felt strangely undone, here in his childhood home; he needed something concrete to hold on to. There was nothing much to be found in the fridge, but Declan did manage to unearth a couple of cans of Dr Pepper in the pantry. 

“Oh, awesome,” Matthew said, grabbing one straight out of Declan’s hand when he returned with them.

Jordan wrinkled her nose, a gesture Declan found unbearably sexy. “That’ll have to do. What flavour even _is_ Dr Pepper, anyway?”

Declan had absolutely no idea. “Carbonated gasoline?” he suggested. He was going to have to take another antacid if he was to drink any of it, and idly hoped there were more in his car. He couldn’t remember if he’d left a stash here.

He got two glasses out of the cupboard and split the remaining can between them, then put them on the table where Matthew was setting out cutlery.

The omelette was done soon after and Jordan cut it into three, tossing a piece onto each plate. They tucked in, a veritable feast of cheesy omelette and Dr Pepper, and Matthew chatted throughout, a more animated version of himself than Declan had seen in recent days. He wasn’t sure if it was because Matthew was just in a better mood, or because of Jordan’s presence, or because he was closer to the mountains.

Declan was glad to see his little brother smiling, but he still felt discomfited. He flicked his gaze to Jordan, who was laughing uproariously at a joke Matthew had just told, and it hit him afresh that Jordan was the copy, and not the original.

No, he didn’t want to think of it like that. Granted, she was the dream, not the dreamer, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t original. He’d seen Jordan and Hennessy together. They _looked_ the same, but they _weren’t_ the same. Not really. 

Declan sighed without meaning to. It drew Jordan’s attention and she raised an eyebrow, so he shook his head to indicate that he was fine, and she shrugged and continued eating.

It didn’t matter which way he looked at it. None of it changed what she was; a dream.

Declan didn’t want to fall in love with a dream. He didn’t think his heart could take it.

Almost as soon as he’d finished eating, Matthew went straight up to bed, forgoing any washing-up duties just like he could always be relied upon to do when he was younger. All at once Declan was hit by a strange grief that didn’t ebb until the footsteps on the stairs had faded and Matthew’s bedroom door had shut with a click.

He was tired, that was all. He remembered just how late it was. “The dishes can wait, I’ll leave them all to soak,” he said to Jordan. He got to his feet. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

They were quiet on the stairs, even though Matthew couldn’t possibly have fallen asleep yet. There were three empty bedrooms upstairs; Ronan’s, Declan’s, and the master suite, Niall and Aurora’s bedroom.

It made sense to put Jordan in the master, but Declan just couldn’t do it. He knew that Ronan would see it as a betrayal somehow, even though he wasn’t here and he’d never know. Declan took her to his own room instead.

He didn’t say as much, but when he opened the door to let her in, she did a turn to take in the space and then smiled sadly at him. “This yours, then?”

He returned the smile, and wondered if his looked sad too. “What gave it away?”

Jordan looked pointedly at the bare walls, the plain bedsheets, the neat and organised dresser, the tidy floor. “So where’s your personality hidden in _this_ house?”

He shrugged, which struck him as a distinctly Ronan gesture. “Maybe I took it all with me.”

“To put in your repression attic?”

Declan laughed despite himself, turning his face away. Everytime she made him laugh it took him by surprise. He nodded. “To put in my repression attic.”

He hesitated in the doorway for a moment, just watching Jordan as she watched him, but then he pulled himself out of it and strode across to the dresser. He opened the third drawer down and pulled out a couple of pairs of pyjama pants and t-shirts. He held up the shirts to have a look; one of them was from a good few years earlier, and he’d filled out a bit since then. But it would probably fit Jordan just fine, and he folded it back up neatly and placed it carefully on the edge of the bed with one of the pairs of pyjama pants..

“Here,” he said. “These should be comfortable, but help yourself to whatever you want. The bathroom’s just across the hall, and there’s clean towels in the cupboard in there. Spare toothbrushes under the sink, too.”

Jordan nodded. “Thanks.”

He hovered, waiting to see if she’d say anything else, waiting to see if she needed anything. But no, there seemed nothing else left to say. Declan rubbed the back of his head.

“Well, goodnight.”

“’Night,” she said, and offered him a tired smile.

He left with his PJs in hand, closing the door behind him.

He stood out in the hallway for a minute or two, unsure what to do with himself. He didn’t want to sleep in his parent’s room for the same reason he hadn’t put Jordan in there. He didn’t want to cross the threshold, he didn’t want to feel his father’s presence anymore than he already did in this house. Although to be fair, Niall had hardly ever been there. It was Aurora's domain more than it had been anyone else’s, and she hadn’t even really been his mother.

And yet her voice rang in his head. _My dauntless Declan._

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory. This house was full of ghosts; he didn’t know how Ronan could stand it.

The door to Ronan’s room was open. This was an odd enough occurrence that it made Declan do a double take, before he realised that it had been left like this because when Ronan had left the Barns, he thought he’d be returning soon, most likely alone.

There was no way that Declan could sleep in Ronan’s room either; laundry _was_ on Ronan’s to-do list and bedsheets should definitely be included, but Declan didn’t trust that easily. More than that, though, even if it was the cleanest place on earth, it was _Ronan’s_ space. Declan shut this door, too, without going inside.

He went into the bathroom, where he changed into his PJs and brushed his teeth, leaving his clothes folded on top of the laundry basket in there. There were spare blankets and pillows in a hallway closet, and he helped himself before making his way downstairs to the living room and setting himself up a bed on the sofa.

It was cold in there, so he made up a fire, standing in front of it and warming his hands once he’d got it going. Once the initial chill had left him, he switched off the light and crawled under the blankets, stretching out across the sofa.

He’d taken his phone and a packet of antacids out of his pocket before he’d come downstairs, and they now sat on the coffee table before him. He popped two of the antacids, then reached for his phone.

It was now a little after three in the morning, and Declan was in that state where he was simultaneously exhausted but also unlikely to find sleep.

He still had no message from Ronan, and it went straight to voicemail when he tried to call. He tried Adam, too, but there was no answer. He assumed Adam was asleep, and he assumed that Adam would get in touch with Ronan before trying Declan. He had no reason to suspect that Adam was anything other than fine, except for the fact that he knew Ronan had been unable to get in contact before leaving, and heightened tensions were making Declan even more paranoid than usual.

He didn’t know what Ronan would do if anything had happened to Adam. 

Declan put his phone down and rolled over, his back to the glow of the fire. He tried to shut his brain off so he could get some sleep, but he couldn’t. His mind was disappointingly full, ready to throw him what-ifs he had yet to consider every single time his thoughts started to drift anywhere remotely resembling blank.

Faint footsteps padding down the hall caught his attention and he propped himself up enough to see over the back of the sofa. He was expecting Matthew, but it was Jordan who pushed the door open, her eyes finding him easily in the light of the fire.

“Hey,” he said, a little hoarsely. He didn’t want to spend too long analysing what the sight of her wearing his clothes did to him.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Sure.” He sat up properly to make more room, and Jordan pulled the door to behind her and headed straight over. 

She sat next to him on the sofa, pulling her feet up so she could sit cross-legged. She said nothing, just stared into the fire. She did this for just long enough for Declan to feel a bit uneasy; her eyes looked like she’d gone somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t follow. He picked up the other end of his blanket and tucked it around her shoulders.

This snapped her out of it. She turned her head slightly towards him and smiled, but worry lined her face.

“Have you heard from Ronan?” she asked.

“No. Hennessy?”

Jordan shook her head, the smile dropping away. “It keeps going straight to voicemail.”

“Does she usually get back to you in a timely manner?”

“Not always,” Jordan admitted.

Declan allowed himself a smile. “Ah. She and Ronan have that in common, then.”

These were special circumstances, though, the kind where Declan was sure both Ronan _and_ Hennessy would get in touch to reassure if they could. But he didn’t say it, because he and Jordan both knew it, and not mentioning it was perhaps the only comfort they could currently hold on to.

“It seems like they’ve got quite a lot in common,” Jordan said.

If she meant that they were both dreamers, Declan supposed that was true. He didn’t know enough about Hennessy to judge any further. Although he _did_ think that Ronan needed more friends; more than Gansey who wasn’t here, more than Adam who was at college where Ronan couldn’t visit.

“I hope so,” he finally said. “Ronan’s not exactly easy to get to know.”

Jordan leaned into Declan amiably, just for a second. “Just like his brother.”

It was a funny thing to hear Jordan saying this, when she had gotten under his skin so quickly, prising things from him he’d never usually share with anyone.

“Declan,” Jordan said.

He closed his eyes, letting the way she said his name wash over him. He wasn’t sure if it was the start of a question or if she just liked saying it, and he hoped it was the latter; he liked hearing it. 

She said it again and he opened his eyes.

“What was it like to grow up here?”

It was an honest question and it deserved an honest answer. “Lonely.” He felt the truth of it in his bones.

Jordan nodded, like she expected this. “Even with your brothers?”

“They made it easier,” he admitted. Their voices were hushed, giving the night the reverence it deserved. Declan thought you could say just about anything at this hour and it wouldn’t matter. The sun would rise and burn it all away. “This place has always meant something different to me than it has to them. It’s never been...home.” 

“Where’s home, then?” There was an aching gentleness to how she asked, and he could barely stand it.

The fire was flickering and causing shadows to dance across Jordan’s skin, and Declan wanted to trace them with his fingertips, and he wanted to kiss her, and he wanted to hear her say his name again. But instead, he said, “I don’t know. I haven’t found it yet.”

Something in her expression told him that she knew exactly how that felt, and all at once it was too much to look at her. The feeling was swelling inside him, that maybe anywhere could be home if she was there too, but it hurt too much to even think about going down that road.

As if sensing his distress, Jordan swiftly changed the subject. “So what exactly are we doing while we’re holed up here?”

“Hiding.”

“Other than that.”

“Seeing what else we can find out about the people that tried to kill us, for starters.”

“What about Bryde?” Jordan asked, her eyes fierce. She seemed to trust the mysterious Bryde as little as Declan did.

“Him, too.”

Jordan frowned, pulling the blanket tighter around her. It was just a gesture, Declan thought, the fire was plenty warm enough. Her thigh was pressed right up against Declan’s, and the contact almost burned but there was no way he was going to move. He was so, so aware of her. 

“Do you have people who can give you that information?”

It was Declan’s turn to frown. “I have avenues through which I can inquire.”

Jordan snorted. “Oh, _mate._ You’re too young to talk like that.”

He smiled, just for her. He felt ancient, but refrained from telling her so. 

“Anyway, avenues of inquiry. Great,” she said. “Can you trust them?”

Declan sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of spare trust lying around to just hand out willy-nilly.”

Jordan considered this. “Do you trust _me?”_

“...Yes,” Declan said, but he said it warily, and Jordan burst out laughing. It drew out a laugh of his own. “In my defense, you did break into my house and rob me.”

“Hey,” Jordan pouted, _“I_ didn’t rob you. I was just the distraction.”

“And quite the distraction you were,” he murmured.

Jordan’s grin should have been illegal. “What was that?”

“You heard me.”

She laughed again. “Oh, Declan. I like you.”

 _You shouldn’t,_ he wanted to say. He was boring and bitter and doomed to a mediocre existence, and his priority was _always_ going to be keeping his family safe and out of the public eye. He wanted more, of course, but you didn’t always get what you wanted out of life. It was one of the earliest lessons Declan had ever learned.

Jordan deserved _more._

“I like you too,” he said, against all better judgement.

It fell quiet, the only sound coming from the comforting crackle of the fire. Declan was torn between the need to sleep and the urge to stay up and keep Jordan talking all night. It struck him that if they fell asleep now and something happened to Ronan and Hennessy in the next few hours, then Declan would wake up alone; Jordan and Matthew would never wake again.

If Declan lost Ronan, he’d lose _both_ of his brothers. And what would he do then? Who would he be?

He shivered involuntarily. Jordan carefully linked her arm through his, and slowly lowered her head onto his shoulder. She let out a sleepy sigh.

“What do you think they’re doing right now?” she whispered.

“Ronan and Hennessy?”

She nodded; Declan felt the movement. He let his own head rest lightly against hers.

“Getting into loads of trouble, no doubt,” he said.

He meant it lightly, the words designed to comfort, and they did. “Good,” Jordan said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

She felt warm and real and so, so alive.

“Goodnight, Declan.”

He closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bonus mini fic from a jordeclan prompt i got on tumblr (the prompt was green)

“If I don’t paint something right now I’m going to explode,” Jordan said after breakfast.

It was their third day of hiding out at the Barns and everyone was just a little on edge. Matthew had taken to sitting outside and bouncing a ball against the side of the house in a way that was reminiscent of Steve McQueen in The Great Escape. It was unbelievably annoying, but Declan didn’t have the heart to ask him to stop.

They had received one message from Ronan and Hennessy, which simply said **safe.** Their phones had been unreachable ever since, Declan had just about exhausted every other avenue of interest he could think of, and he had no idea if any of them were even still in immediate danger.

But when in doubt, he’d always assumed the worst. So self-imposed exile it was, until Ronan either came back, or he figured out a better plan of action. Whichever came first.

All in all, he couldn’t exactly blame Jordan for needing an outlet.

Ordinary paper was easy enough to track down, but Jordan wrinkled her nose at it. “It’ll do in a pinch I guess, but is there anything…bigger? Sturdier?”

“What, like a canvas and easel?”

“If you’ve got it. Come on, big place like this, lots of outside buildings, there’s bound to be an easel _somewhere.”_

Declan was dubious but the search was at least something to do, and also Jordan was standing there in jeans and one of his sweaters and looking utterly at home in it, as if it was something she did all the time. It was doing twisty things to his stomach, but in a good way for a change.

“Let’s see what we can find,” he said.

Inside the house they managed to scrounge up some really old kids art supplies, like completely dried up markers, colouring pencils and crayons, some pavement chalk, and unusable ancient watercolours.

They had a little more luck in the garage, where they came across some paintbrushes that were still in fairly good condition, and Jordan managed to find three medium sized canvas boards tucked away right at the back.

“I _told_ you,” she said, triumphant. “Everyone has an artist phase, even if it doesn’t stick.”

There was no easel anywhere to be found, but that wasn’t the end of the world. Paint, oddly enough, was the hardest to track down.

Eventually they checked the barn where Declan knew Ronan (and their father) stored miscellaneous dream crap. He didn’t really want to venture too far in there, but lined up along the wall just inside the door were several tins of paint. None of them were labelled, and all of them were unopened, but when Declan went along prying the lids off, he discovered that they were all half-empty, and they were all the exact same shade of green.

“What the fuck,” Jordan said, but with humour.

Declan shrugged. “I’m gonna say a frustration dream? Anyway, I hope you like green.”

Jordan inspected the paint, then nodded. “I can make it work, I just need some water.”

Declan got her set up on the porch with the paint and brushes and water, and a big empty plant pot to prop her canvas up against.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

Jordan nodded without looking up, busy mixing paint with water to get the consistencies she wanted. He watched her for a moment, then found he didn’t want to go back inside. He could vaguely hear the noise from the TV, so Matthew was obviously preoccupied.

“Do you mind if I stay?”

At that, Jordan did lift her head. She smiled. “You have to stay, I’m painting you again.”

Declan hesitated, immediately thinking back to the first time Jordan had painted him. Her first original.

“I get to be your second original too?”

“You got it,” she nodded. “Sit.”

There wasn’t really anywhere _to_ sit, so Declan opted for the porch railing, turning so he could lean his back against the wall of the house.

He watched her as she watched him, and neither spoke or moved for almost a minute. 

Finally, Jordan grinned. “Act natural.”

“I _am.”_

“Sure you are.”

Declan sighed, shaking his head with a smile. He shifted his weight slightly, lifting one leg up onto the railing and propping his arm across his knee. He dropped his head back against the wall and let it loll to the side, automatically putting the sprawling grounds of the Barns in his eye-line.

His relationship with this place was a complicated as ever, but he supposed there was something magical and serene about it. It was just hard to be objective about it when it was the source of so much resentment for him.

He closed his eyes and let himself drift, brushstrokes on canvas a comforting sound to get lost in. At the minute, it was just him and Jordan and the breeze. With his eyes shut, they could be anywhere. Anywhere but here.

“Declan.”

He opened his eyes. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, but he had a crick in his neck and his foot had gone numb.

“Was I asleep?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask,” Jordan said. She was smiling at him, a small thing; soft, made softer by the look in her eyes.

Declan looked back out at the grounds; the light had shifted since they first set out on their quest. It was probably nearing mid-afternoon by now, a part of the day gone without him even registering it.

He slowly got to his feet and stretched. Jordan was still sitting on the ground, surrounded by her art supplies. There was a smudge of paint across the knuckles of her right hand, and another one on her cheek. 

Declan knelt down in front of her and gently ran his thumb across the smudge on her cheek. He felt Jordan hold her breath, and his hand lingered. Her skin was warm and inviting.

Then he pulled it away and showed her the paint transferred to his thumb.

“You got a little something.”

“I see that,” she said softly. Then she cleared her throat. “I’m finished.”

He remembered last time, when she hadn’t shown him the finished product, so that she could paint him again.

He was the calmest he’d felt in weeks; he didn’t want this to be the last time. He wanted her to paint him again, and again, until she had so many Declan originals that he might finally feel like someone worthy of them.

“And?” he said. A simple question. Not a demand to see it.

Jordan smiled, bright and brilliant. “And you look stunning in green.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this is okay, i've never written from declan's pov before and i was afraid to even touch jordan's (i'll get there eventually i'm sure!)


End file.
